A Winding Circle Reunion
by Smicc
Summary: It's been eight years and everyone is begining to return to Winding Circle as agreed. But how has eight years changed them all? DajaKirel, BriarTris, SandryOC


DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! **Sobs**

This is my first Circle of Magic fanfic and yes they are supposed to seem a little bit out of character. It's been eight years and I'm basically writing about how they've changed. So OOC-ness is supposed to be there

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'Why anyone would want to live here is beyond me', thought Daja to herself as she pulled her cloak tighter around her body and surveyed the snowy mountains surrounding her. She would arrive at the Winding Circle Temple next week, exactly eight years since she left to explore the different types of metal craft around the world.

She was eager to get home and see all of her friends. She wished she could ride and ride all day and night till she got there, but that was impossible. She needed rest, as did her horse and even if they didn't, snow and the freezing winds made the going slow. She could see a town a mile ahead and could already see people lining up to greet her.

Her traveling companions, a boy of the age sixteen and his mother, rode in a cart a few meters behind Daja's horse, had accompanied her since Hatar almost four years ago. The boy, Tor, let out a whoop of joy as he spotted the town and pointed it out.

"Daja! Look that must be Winters Grove! They're rumored to have the best ale this side of the Pebbled Sea!" Tor exclaimed happily. His mother Latel frowned,

"And just how would you know that Torvald Phibreezo Mercer!" she said in a stern tone.

"Not that I've tried it," Amended the boy, his statement not quelling Latel's thunderous look. Once again reminding Daja of Rosethorn, and by association Briar. Daja grinned and spurred her horse forward.

"Last one there buys the winner a tankard of that ale!"

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"Mistress smith?" asked one villager hesitantly approaching Daja the next day.

"Yes?"

"I'd be honored if you would mend my sword. It has been in my family for generations and I won't trust it to the buffle-headed smith that lives there." said the man offering the rusting and battered sword to Daja on outstretched palms.

"If you can point me in the direction of the Blacksmith's shop or a forge, I will fix your sword" said Daja with a smile.

"Thank you! Not only are you a great mage but a kind one! The Smith's shop is further down this road on the left side. It has a black anvil sign with writing on it don't ask me what though, I can't read." Said the villager pointing down the street. Daja began to walk away but the villager stopped her.

"You forgot your wage Mistress smith," said the man offering up a small bag of gold coins. Daja smiled and shook her head,

"You keep it sir. You're the innkeeper are you not?"  
"Yes Mistress smith,"

"See to it that the woman and her son who accompanied me are given a warm bath before we set out in two hours."

"As you say Mistress smith."

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"Excuse me? I was wondering if I could borrow your forge for an hour or so. A villager has asked me to mend his sword." Asked Daja as she entered the shop. There was one man standing over and anvil pounding a piece of metal.

"As you wish," said the man with a bitter tone not turning to face Daja. Something about the voice sounded familiar

"Thank you," said Daja as she began to unpack her mage and smith tools.

"Are you that mage the whole town been a twittering about for the last month?" asked the blonde man folding the metal over before beginning to pound it again.

"I guess so, but I'll never be as good as my teacher. He saw magic in me and took me in when no one else would even look at me." Answered Daja as she began to work on the sword. For a man who the villager believes to be 'buffle-headed' he shows a lot of skill, a recognizable skill, and Frostpine's particular craft.

"I don't know why the villagers don't trust your skills. Your very good."

"I was born in this town and will die in this town, always in my father's shadow. He was a great black smith, no one believed, believes, that I can be a good black smith. My father hoped for greatness and sent me to Winding Circle temple in Emelan to train under the greatest Smith mage ever, Frostpine." The man lost his bitter tone and his voice turned wistful.

"Did you know Frostpine?" asked Daja turning around to face the man's back. The blonde man nodded, his long braid swinging across his bare back as he continued to hammer. It was then that Daja realized where she recognized the man.

"Kirel?!" she exclaimed, the man froze and stood up straight, his back still facing Daja.

"No one's called me that in many years. It's always 'Junior Smith' how do you know my name?" he asked his fists clenching at the words 'Junior Smith', he slowly began to turn and opened his mouth to say something. When he saw Daja the words died on his tongue.

"Daja?" he whispered as if he didn't believe it was really her, She nodded and smiled as she looked him over. He had grown more muscular and gained a man's looks instead of the way she remembered him, as a young boy no older than Tor. This town didn't appreciate his skills and he knew it she could see it in his tired eyes. They'd once been a vibrant, sparkling sky blue. Now thick black bags overset them, he was too thin, as if he hadn't eaten well in many months. If it was true that the villagers didn't trust his skill he probably received very few jobs and even less money.

"You don't look so good Kirel, when was the last time you ate?" asked Daja concerned but smiling broadly. It was good to see him, she hadn't seen him since she left Winding circle.

"It's really you? Your really here?" he asked looking at her as if she were a ghost. "I see you and Frostpine in my dreams, they always feel so real. But your for real?" asked Kirel taking a step closer Daja. 'Delusions? He must sick as well!' thought Daja. As she closed the gap between them and pulled him into a bone crushing hug.

"Yes, I'm real. I'm real." Daja reassured him as he began to hug her back. When they pulled apart she could see a single tear rolling down his cheek. He smiled and brushed it away. She'd never seen him cry, he'd always been a cheerful, helpful youth even if he was a little high strung. This town had been rough and was killing him. He needed to leave, and knowing Kirel like she did she knew he was most likely pressed into this job by his father's death. He wouldn't leave because of ungrateful villagers.

"Kirel, I'm leaving in a half an hour and your coming with me. We're going home. Back to Winding Circle, back to people who'll appreciate you. Back to Frostpine." Said Daja looking into his eyes. He smiled and another tear rolled down his cheek followed by another and another at the thought of home. Daja began to realize that she too was crying at her friend's plight. They hugged again, their tears soaking each other's aprons.

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Kirel sat up rubbing sleep out of his eyes. His bed was bouncing. 'Wait a minute...bouncing?!...Yeah, it's bouncing alright.' He thought, slowly he opened his eyes and saw that he was sitting in a cart that was slowly bouncing along.

"You're awake! My name's Tor and that's my mother Latel who's driving." Said a teenaged boy with green eyes and mousy brown hair.

"Hullo, my name's Kirel...what am I doing here?" asked Kirel.

"Daja picked you up in Winters Grove and said you was comin' with us to Winding Circle."

"Daja! That wasn't just a dream?" asked Kirel, Tor smiled at him. Daja has said he might react like this. 'He don't look well. Probably all the snow, he's a black smith, he needs to be in warm places not snowy mountains.' Thought Tor as he pointed out the front of the cart to Daja. Kirel sat next to Latel on the driver's bench and just watched Daja for a while before deciding that it was real. He broke into a wide grin and yelled at the top of his lungs.

"I'M GOING HOME!"

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Smicc: please R&R I live on reviews!!!!!!!


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